Untamed, Untouchable
by Samsara
Summary: heero yuy is different from other young men, anyone he touches, he feels their feelings, only the raw, hateful emotions people hide away in their hearts. Will he find the stregnth to leave home and be touched without hurting? AU, 1x2, 3x4,5x13 Chap.3 Up
1. un.thinkable

Untamed, Untouchable  
  
By, Samsara  
  
Disclaimer: Seriously guys, if you wanna sue someone, you outta go run in front of moving vehicles. It works really well and you get a lot of money, more money than you'll get from suing an anarchist who glues the locks on banks... and who is un-suible... esp. since i don't own Gundam wing.  
  
Warnings: Yaoi, 1x2, 3x4, 5x13 etc. Confused Peacecraft. Blood, AU (Our time), angst and suicidal themes. Please be mature.  
  
Untamed, Untouchable  
  
Part One:  
  
unthinkable  
  
The sky was different today. Instead of a cheerful blue, it glowed with a misty gray. Long snaky tendrils of fog smoked the bridges and walkways, making ripples in the crystal water. It was beautiful, though hardly anyone could find something so gorgeous about a rainy day in Prague.  
  
Few people were hustling about the streets in the on-sheets of rain, and they made their way to a pub or a friend's house. The old time houses lined cobblestone streets and cornered with old parliament building which were now turned into banks and new age businesses. Down the street lay a pharmacy, and an old cafe run by an elderly couple. Apartments and city cars lined the cobblestone walkways, and a nearby soccer field was empty. It always seemed, that the world stopped running when it rained. Like someone had turned all the will away from happiness to a dreaded silence and cold.  
  
The statues and gardens lay bleak, and the old Jewish cemetery radiated a cold welcome for any noontime visitors. There were none.  
  
Two eyes viewed the cityscape from behind a lacy curtain. The icy pupils ran their length up the walls and their guards, licking up the rainwater as it splashed through the world. The untouchable world.  
  
Heero Yuy stood for a moment longer at the window, before turning away. His unruly brown hair tangled with each other and hid most of the 18 year old's face. There was no point in gazing at something you could never have, or hold or barely touch. No point at all. Slowly he walked away and down the rickety old stairs. Heero and his mother lived in part of the old castle village, living in an apartment which used to be a blacksmith's. The house wasn't large, but it was very homely.  
  
A fire was lit in the hearth, and water was about to boil over. An old, fragile looking woman was bent over a table, counting and recounting the glass figurines. The people of the village called her Claudette, or Ette for short. Heero called her Mama. The front of the house was a store, where the family sold homemade glass pieces.  
  
"Good morning Heero. It's about time you were up," the old lady greeting, smiling as she wiped her soiled hands on her apron and tucked her long hair behind her ear.  
  
" There's hot water for tea, and if you like, I can make you eggs or something. I'm planning on rabbit stew for tonight," she continued, quite used to his silence.  
  
" That's fine, I'll make something myself. You need to work," was all he replied before sitting down. The woman smiled, and continued counting as the boy rummaged for food. He hand paused over a packet of tea leaves, unsure to touch it. A hand silently stroked his, and pulled the tea out. Heero smiled gratefully, before returning to eat.  
  
"Heero, I want to talk with you about something," his mother said gently, completing her work. Heero nodded once, and leaned back in his chair. His mother removed her apron and folded it, stuffing it away in a shelf. She took a cup of tea before sitting across from her son, thinking thoughtfully. Finally she spoke.  
  
"Heero, I want you to leave," she told him, not looking up.  
  
"What?!" the request startled the man greatly. What was she doing...?  
  
"You are wasting away. You're not yourself anymore, and I'm... well, afraid for you," she whispered softly, looking at him. Small tears budded in her brilliant violet eyes, which had never dulled.  
  
"I... You don't understand!" the boy yelled angrily, shoulders heaving, " I... I can't go out there without being hurt,"  
  
"I do know that! I've known that since you were a little boy! Please Heero, listen! This is for the best, I know it. If you cannot go out into the world, what will you be like as a man! You have to meet people, and not hide away. Pain comes with life, and if you can't face it then... you'll become no better than your father,"  
  
"Don't say that!! That's not true!" Heero cried out, dropping his cup onto the table and balling his fists tightly. Tears welled at his eyes. His father... he would never be like that. Never. He had promised that ever since his father had left them.  
  
Ette looked silently at her son, gathering her courage.  
  
" Forgive me... I shouldn't have said that. Please try to understand..." Heero shook his head viciously in response. He was shaking now, and his boxer-clad form did not help him.  
  
"Heer-!" Ette started, but stopped herself short as her only son ran up the stairs, still shivering. Inwardly she sighed. It would be hard to make him leave.  
  
-------  
  
How could she? Weren't mothers supposed to protect you from the pain and hold you close to their breast when you felt alone or scared? Heero shot into his room, and sat on his iron stand bed, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Hissing softly, he set about dressing, searching for something warm. He pulled on a long sleeved black turtleneck, and a pair of baggy pants. A top that he wore a puffy vest* and a black hat hid his brown locks. His socks and ankle high boots followed, and finally gloves. Just as he was finished, a curt knock sounded off his door.  
  
" Honey, can I come in?"  
  
No. No you can't. Go away, leave me alone.  
  
"I'm coming in," Ette warned before the door creaked open slowly. The old lady peered in for a moment before entering. Heero made no move nor sound as she sat on his bed, his fingers soothing the bedclothes.  
  
" I know you hate the outside world, but I need you to go. I can't live here, pretending that I don't know what you're doing," she alleged quietly, tucking in the folds of a pillowcase. She was nervous, he could tell.  
  
"And just what am I doing?" he asked crisply, still not looking at her.  
  
"Hiding. You have to stop hiding. You mustn't feel afraid..."  
  
"Afraid?" he laughed darkly, " I'm terrified. You don't have my problem. You don't know what it's like,"  
  
"I may not, but I have a pretty good idea. Listen Heero, You can hate me forever on this, but here's the deal. You leave this house and the country for a whole year, and when or if you return, I will let you sit here and hide. But you have to stay away a whole year, understand?" She answered firmly, standing up and looking him in the eye. He stared back for a moment before cringing. A year, what harm could that do? A lot, in his case.  
  
Heero had never set foot outside of Prague, let alone the Czech Republic! He could barely survive in the city he lived in. How could he...  
  
Ette sighed deeply and gathered her son's gloved hands in her flour caked hands. Gently, she took them and placed them against her face. Heero flinched ever so slightly, but his gaze held firm.  
  
"Someday, when you return, I want you to be able to touch things, and be safe within yourself. You will never accomplish that by staying here. I cannot offer you more, son," she muttered, her words exhaling through her mere breath.  
  
"But, the store, and you! How will you get along?" Heero asked, cobalt eyes pouring into his mother's violet eyes.  
  
"Zachariah down the street promised to help me. He'll move in. I trust him. I can get along just fine without you," the woman smiled, her old nose wrinkling in a giggle.  
  
Heero made no reply.  
  
" Come along now, you must pack. You mustn't take a lot," she directed calmly, dragging out a rather bulky backpack.  
  
What would life be like on the outside of the parks and statues? Would there ever be a place, or person who he could touch without fear? He had spent his entire life hiding, it was true. He was afraid, afraid of human contact, and more so than anyone else in the world. Why did he have to be so afraid?  
  
"I am the only person who cannot touch someone without feeling their negative feelings," he murmured to himself, walked over to the window and pulling back the curtain. It was snowing lightly now, and the sky was lit with a magnificent squall of thunder and lightening. The rain and snow danced in multicolored riots, illuminating the skyline. Behind him, his mother watched.  
  
"There's enough money to get you to London at least," she informed him, slinging the pack onto his uneasy shoulders. The weight felt strange, fluttery and unnatural all at once. Should he go? Why should he not? It was fear, the feeling of wanting to be grounded, that held him back.  
  
The pair walked downstairs, the steps creaking with their combined weight. It would be eternities before he heard that sound, or felt the timber loosen beneath his feet. The rooms, they would remain unoccupied by him for a while. No matter how much Ette dusted, the rooms would grow old and soiled to him. At the doorway they stopped. A train ticket to Germany, then France and then England lay in his hand.  
  
" Heero Yuy, I feel the world has been missing their angel. It is time the angel was returned, ne?" Ette told him mysteriously, clasping his hands once more. He smiled genuinely, before turning slowly. Soon this place would be foreign to him.  
  
As if guessing his thoughts, Ette smiled and drew forth her hand and stroked his hair.  
  
"Angels never forget where they come from,"  
  
Heero stopped, and turned to face her. Tears were in his mother's eyes, but no choking noise were uttered between them. At her throat lay an angel pendant, set with diamonds. In a flash it was around Heero's neck, and the door was closed in his face.  
  
With no choice, he turned, and walked into an untouchable world.  
  
------  
  
ooo!! teaser! Sorry, no other characters just yet. Thou next chapter we meet a certain justice ranter... ::hinthint::  
  
tell me if you like it, and want me to go on! ^.^ 


	2. un.sure

Untamed, Untouchable  
  
Part Two: un.sure  
  
*Note: This story is AU, and is during our time, however, this is just after WWIII (World War Three), which hasn't happened yet, but it has in this story. During WWIII, China, The Czech Republic, Canada, Poland, Germany and France were all occupied by the Russians. The war lasted from about 1997-2001 . The September 11th tragedies have not occurred.  
  
  
  
  
  
Heero stared, somewhat amazed, at the endlessly long line of travelers, waiting for his train. Families with as up to 5 kids stood impatiently before him, chasing one another through the rows of people and the street vendors. Wary mothers cornered their children and ushered them like sheep back into the line, hoping they still had their place. The fathers carried a stroller on their backs, or handed fresh diapers to their wives. Occasionally he would nip at the mother's ear, letting her know of his undying affection.  
  
It had long since stopped snowing, and the crowds inside the Prague train station were starting to get restless. The men shoveling snow off the track were being yelled at, and several young rioters threw empty beer bottles at them. One of the rioters swiveled around and sniffed delicately, as though a hound on the search of missing child or criminal. His dark violet eyes seemingly found Heero's immediately. The man stood there, entranced by Heero's cold-blooded stare. The man suddenly backed away, and nearly onto the tracks. Once the line began to move again, the man gathered himself up. Heero lost sight of him as the families crowded in front of him, but he could hear a distant cry of, "HEY YOU!" as his watcher attempted to keep up with him.  
  
When the train did arrive, the crowds packed up and made their way outside, puffs of smoke visible above chattering teeth. The train itself was gorgeous, painted a brilliant red and trimmed with a decent gold. Superior looking guards stood at every entrance to the train, each wearing stiff olive green suits, black ties and army hats donned with patches and medals from the war. They had once been brave soldiers who watched friends fall in battle while saving an innocent soul. Now they were a mere shadow of their former glory, reduced to gigantic mugs of coffee and unsatisfied hunger.  
  
Heero followed the people absently; partially ignoring the stares they were throwing his way. In that winter world of white, he stood in complete contrast, sketched in black as though he were a hazy charcoal drawing.  
  
The inside of the train was so different from the outside, it was sickening. The guards at the doors punched your ticket, and let you pass into the tiny hallways of dust and brown. The brown wallpaper was peeling off, revealing the metal interior. Several cheap paintings and photographs of flowers or people hung on the gruesome walls in a vain attempt to lighten traveler's hearts. The rooms were small and consisted of 4 feet walking room and six beds piled three high as bunk beds. Heero took the one to the right of the sliding door, on the bottom floor, and dumped his backpack on the tattered blankets and starched sheets. The light bulb that hung overhead swung back and forth, each time gently knocking against the edge of the top bunks. Slowly, as if frozen stiff, Heero lay back against the propped up pillow, and fell asleep.  
  
----------------------  
  
It was near two am when Heero woke up from his soft slumber. The ever gentle sway of the train rang in his footsteps as the young man paced his cabin, stretching. Four other people were sleeping, their barely audible snores present.  
  
Silently, the bedraggled young man left the small comfort of the room, and slid the glass door shut. The Hallway was completely empty. The tiny, flickering lanterns swung with the train on her journey forward. All the compartments were shut off from his view, as the plush red curtains hid the occupants.  
  
"That man back at the station, the rioter boy. What did he want? Is this how the world works, always looking at someone and immediately finding that you want something from them? It doesn't really matter, stupid. He's gone now, and you'll probably never see him again. But why did he see me? I don't want to be seen. . . stupid. Stupid. Forget him.  
  
I've got a ticket that'll get me as far as England, but what the hell am I gonna do there? Bartending is really the only thing I can do, but how many bartending jobs are open out there? Probably none. I just need to stay alive for a year, and then I can go on home. Back where I belong, behind the curtains and out of the sun. I hate sun." Heero's thoughts soon trapezed off one another and collapsed in a tiny puddle. He walked on in total silence; not thinking, not saying and his eyes shut in the welcoming dark. He didn't even notice when he passed from car to car, until he hit someone smack dab in the chest.  
  
Heero's eyes immediately snapped open, searching quickly for the obstacle. In front of him stood five men, two of them sitting on the floor. The one he had bumped into stood for a moment, unaffected by Heero's actions. He was a large German, with over built muscles and crew cut. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but they did not cover a faint blush on his cheeks. He was also very drunk.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Heero apologized dryly, bowing stiffly. The two guys on the floor chuckled heartily as their friend (whom Heero ran into) peered down at the Czech youth over his sunglasses. He too joined in on the laughing.  
  
"Now 'dere Rosie, you's ain't gots 'ta sayz sorra t' us!*" The main guy slurred, slinging an arm around Heero's waist and neck.  
  
"Rosie? Nani?!*" Heero yelped as the cold hands came in contact with his shirt.  
  
"Ya sweets. Wha dontca love ma reeeal good, na'?*" In his drunken state, the man completely ignored Heero's surprise and pushed the young man up against the drab wall of the train.  
  
"Ge.. Get off of me!" Heero cried as the cold hands worked on opening up his waistband.  
  
"Ya dun't like dis? I like dis," was all he replied before slipping his left hand into Heero's pants.  
  
Heero gasped in horror as the drunk man came in direct contact with his skin. Everything quickly dissolved and puddled together as Heero's eyes defocused themselves. His left eye swung up and the lid clamped shut over it. His right eye swiveled up soon after, and Heero was left in complete darkness. He couldn't even feel the man's hands running over his sensitive skin. He only heard his heartbeat, and his nose soon became over-flooded with a stinging smell that left your nostrils dry. Only after he heard his heart stop beating, did his emotions fill in.  
  
The drunken guy and Heero were channeling their emotions through Heero's skin, but only Heero could feel both their emotions. Rosie. The name the man had called Heero filled the man's heart. He only thought of her, but there was something wrong with it. He seemed so in love with this Rosie, but ... he wasn't.  
  
"Infatuation, confusion and anger," Heero whispered suddenly. Heero's molester was infatuated with this Rosie to the point where he thought it was true love! He was so confused and lonely; he had never truly sorted out his feelings and had become so alone that he was obsessed with the only person who cared about him. But she didn't love him back. A part of this man knew that, but he never admitted it. He was angry by the fact that his single object of desire didn't love him.  
  
"So boys, what do you think you're doing in here?" A calm voice floated through the air and trembled in between Heero and his molester. The drunken men looked up slowly and gasped slowly. Heero's molester backed away from the trembling boy, who instantaneously fell to the hard floor.  
  
The calm voice belonged to a Chinese boy, who looked no older than 20 or so. His shiny black hair was tied back into a small braid, which was half hidden by a comfortable looking white shirt that seemed to hang to his knees if un-tucked and blue kendo pants. The boy smiled a tranquil smile as he leaned against a glass door, and twirled his sword carelessly about. The two guys on the floor stood up and faced this intruder.  
  
"Hey! Can't cha see I's hafen some fun wit ma lada?*" The main guy garbled, trying to steady himself against the wall.  
  
"Stupid. Can't you see right? Your lady's a man, and obviously doesn't want to be here," the Chinese man smirked and steadied his sword, balancing in on its' tip.  
  
"Whaaa'??" The men turned back to look at the fallen Heero, and were quickly hit on the back of the neck and in the stomach by the Chinese man. The men stood for a second, staring insanely at one another, before collapsing in a heap on the floor, unconscious.  
  
Heero remain unmoving on the floor.  
  
The Chinese man swiftly hopped over the unconscious men and gently lifted Heero's head into his lap.  
  
"Alright, he's breathing at least," the savior muttered to himself while re- buttoning Heero's pants. After sheathing his sword and placing it at his side, the Chinese man hefted Heero up into his arms, and began to walk back through the door he came from. As he reached the end of the hallway, people were starting to emerge from their compartments, and looking around for the trouble.  
  
"Bastards. How could they sleep while an innocent was being hurt right outside their door?" he murmured softly, and passed through the doorway.  
  
----------  
  
Heero slowly awoke to the soft humming of a male voice sitting by the open window. He leisurely sat up, pulling the meager train blankets with him. The man at the window stopped humming, and turned to gaze at him with fierce dark eyes. In his lap sat a sword, and his shirt had been discarded to the bedside table.  
  
This room on the train was much different from the others. There was only one bed, and the room was much larger than the others. Next to the bed was a night table, and a closet on the other side. The bed was more like a mattress, and Heero was sure that if the train went in the other direction, he would have fallen off it. The Chinese man stood from his place at the window, and cautiously sat down next to Heero on the floor.  
  
"You're awake I see. What is your name?" He asked dumbly. Heero slanted against the wall before answering.  
  
"My name is Heero Yuy. Are you the one who saved me?" Heero replied. The Chinese man cocked his head ever so slightly, and smiled.  
  
"Yes, Heero. I did save you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Chang Wufei, Wanderer of the Dragon Clan,"  
  
"Thank you, Chang Wufei." Heero stated, half bowing in the mattress-bed.  
  
"Take no heed. I was merely doing my duty. What brings you here Heero, and where are you headed?"  
  
"I'm from the Czech Republic and I'm going to England. You?" he answered nervously, twisting the sheets in his sweaty hands. This guy was strange.  
  
"I was born in China, but during the war I was... relocated to Russia. After the war, I left Russia, but I am on my way to Italy," Wufei told the boy, his words perfectly articulated and chosen.  
  
"But the war was about a year ago! Did you just get out off Russia now?" Heero questioned curiously.  
  
"No. I got out nearly a month after it ended. I spent maybe a month in Poland, but otherwise I've spent most of my time on this train. You see, i got separated from my wife, Meiran, during the war. We promised to meet in Italy in 2002. I had nothing really to do until then, so I stayed on trains and protected people who got into trouble like you. Eventually the Railway Company gave me a job, and I was able to get my own room here," Wufei enlightened, turning away. Heero sat silent, letting his newfound friend think.  
  
"So. It's nearly 6 am and we should be arriving soon. I suggest we go gather you're stuff from your compartment. Hopefully no one will have taken it," Wufei grinned and stood up as though he had just decided upon something. Heero got up, and followed quietly.  
  
There were more people moving about now, packing everything up and shoving past one another. Heero led the way back, repeatedly dodging strollers and children. Every so often a hand or foot would connect with Heero's covered body, and he would instantly shadow away. Wufei saw this, and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  
  
When they reached Heero's compartment, the train had arrived, and people were already starting to leave the train. Inside his empty compartment, Heero turned to say his goodbyes.  
  
"Well, thank you, Chang Wufei. It was nice to meet you. I really appreciate what you did for me. I hope to see you ar-" Heero started, but was cut off by Wufei's small chortle.  
  
"You know what Heero? I think I shall follow you to England," Wufei informed him.  
  
"WHAT?! What do you mean by that?" Heero cried, startled.  
  
"You need protection, and I shall protect you," Wufei replied calmly.  
  
"I do not need protection! I'm not some weakling!" Heero said firmly, folding his arms huffily over his chest. Wufei leaned in close, and laid a hand on Heero's shoulder. Heero rapidly moved back, into the bunk bed.  
  
"You're pretty. Evil people hurt pretty guys, and you need backup. It doesn't look like you have backup now, or protection! Therefore, I shall protect you," Wufei whispered into his ear. Heero stood there, cornered against the bunk bed, trapped. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Smiling again, Wufei slid open the door and motioned for Heero to go.  
  
"How do I know to trust you?" he asked suspiciously, placing one foot forward.  
  
"You don't," Wufei shrugged, " But you'll never know until you try, ne?"  
  
Heero blinked furiously for a moment, drawing in Wufei's profile again. He was right. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a friend. After 6 steps, Heero stood outside the doorway. As they walked off the train, Heero realized that was one of the first major decisions he had made in past three years. 


	3. un.floored

Untamed, Untouchable  
  
Part Three: un.floored  
  
Disclaimer: ::sighs:: people, how many times must we go over this. Samsara=dope. Gundam Wing= Owned by Smart Cookies, therefore Samsara does not own Gundam Wing. The lyrics belong to Double Negative. Now that I've covered my ass once more, we can go on with the story.   
  
  
  
Both Heero and Wufei blinked furiously as the train doors opened into the lofty train station. People shoved past the pair, hustling around the vendors and homeless children, young women flocking to the make-up stands and rushing through the stationary stores and scarf shops, even if they could not afford buy them. Heero and Wufei managed to push through the heavily packed crowd and still stay together. Eventually they reached the outer part of the French Train Station, where the crowds dispersed through the different exits or to vendors. Wufei and Heero stopped at a bench to recollect things before leaving.  
  
"Ya know, I haven't been to France since the War ended. Seems like such a long time, but nothing's changed much. Still looks like post-war France. Everybody's just trying to pick up from where they left off," Wufei explained to his silent companion. During the trip from Germany to France, neither had spoken much to one another. Wufei had his nose stuck in a book and Heero simply gazed out the window, often tapping the glass and outlining the countryside with his fingers.  
  
"We have to get to the city of Boulogne before we can board the train that will take us under the English Channel and into Hastings. Boulogne is almost 252 miles away Wufei. How are we going to get there in time to make the train?" Heero queried, glancing up from the map he was reading.  
  
"Good question. Since it's late afternoon, I'd suggest getting a hotel room for the night and moving on first thing in the morning. We may have to hitchhike there I'm afraid," Wufei said matter-of-factly, his grin twisting into a slight scowl.  
  
"Hitchhiking can be dangerous, you know. And many of the French citizens aren't so happy to take total strangers into their cars. If this were England, it would be different, almost... people these days..." the Chinese man muttered to himself.  
  
After deciding on a hotel, the two men walked out through the main exit and onto the road. Cars filtered through the roads, taxis, buses and cars honking and screaming at one another. The buildings were mostly made of stone, and were old looking but somehow each held a modern touch. Sidewalk cafes were packed with people, both regulars and tourists.  
  
They both got into the queue for the taxis, and waited patiently for the next driver to show up. When he did arrive, both climbed into the back.  
  
"Ou est-ce que nous allons?" the man asked, directing it to Wufei. The Chinese man muttered a few curses under his breath.  
  
"uh... Nous allons.... dammit, uh... a la... crap... ummm.... "  
  
"A la crap?!" the taxi driver sniggered.  
  
"Non... erm... nous allons a la laver, wait that's the word for wash, no it's for walking... awwww shhitt!"  
  
" C'est tres stupide. Je n'aime pas des americanes." The taxi driver threw his hands up in the air and slammed them down against the dashboard.  
  
"Nous voulons aller la rue de Garates, s'il vous plait,et, je n'aime pas des americanes aussi," Heero stuck his head through the partitioning and replied smoothly, perfect accent and all. The dumbstruck driver nodded before rolling his head back into a horse full-throttle laugh, and pulled the car out into the busy avenue. Heero and the cab driver were soon engaged in a vigorous conversation, leaving Wufei to mutter while peering out the window.  
  
"I didn't know you spoke French," Wufei demanded hoarsely. He looked quite embarrassed, and was bright red.  
  
"Yea, along with German, English, Japanese, Chinese, Spanish, Italian, Greek, Swahili, Dutch, Polish, Russian and I guarantee you many more. How else do you think I can speak to you?" Heero informed him stiffly, folding his arms over a well-sculpted chest and grinning wolfishly.  
  
Wufei remained silent and continued to peer out the window as both Heero and the driver laughed at his silence.  
  
---------  
  
It took only a half hour to reach the destination, which was a lovely little bed and breakfast which had been hidden away in between two large buildings and behind three huge gardens. Wufei and Heero checked into the b&b, and then settled in. Their room was quite spacious and bright colored. The walls were a nice, neutral olive green and the ceiling was white. There were two beds, one which sat next to the window and the other on the other side of the door to the terraces. The bathroom was big and contained fluffy yellow towels and there was even a small rubber ducky. Other than that, the traditional place had a television and some gorgeous blowup paintings of dandelions. After moseying about the room for a bit, Wufei left to go down and visit the rest of the bed and breakfast. Heero left after awhile, to take a walk down in the gardens.  
  
The gardens were empty around 5 p.m. when most people were out eating. There were occasional passersby, but it was nearly empty. Heero strolled around the fountains and statues before burying himself to the nose in a patch of irises. He sat there, just gazing at the flowers and the surroundings. Finally, he reached into his backpack and withdrew a book of empty painting paper.  
  
Ever so slowly, acrylic paint fluttered in dashed movement across the pages, forming iris after iris. The colors were sometimes dull and wintry, but others sat on the page bright and proud. Every so often Heero would either wipe his paintbrush on an empty piece of paper or suck on it to change colors. His session ended however, when a familiar black haired Chinese dude with a sword came strolling through the area he was in, calling his name.  
  
"Heero?"  
  
Carefully, Heero packed away the paints and stowed the paintings back into the book and into his pack. He never felt like sharing his paintings with anyone. He didn't want people to see them. When he had locked himself away in his room, he'd always paint the view from the window, or his room. He had done millions of those paintings, and all of them were stowed away in his pack. Most of them portrayed his feelings, as any other artist's work, but Heero didn't need people sticking their noses in his feelings. Besides, the drawings weren't that good, were they?  
  
"I'm here,"  
  
-------------  
  
  
  
When the morning came, pale blue light crept in through the lace curtains and across Heero's curled up body. The pair had nearly gone straight to bed after dinner, both exhausted from the train ride. They had gone from Germany to France all in one trip, and had had a two-hour delay halfway. By the time Heero had awoken, the faint touches of dawn were spreading across France. Silently, as to not disturb his new friend, Heero got up, dressed and left a not to tell Wufei he was going for a walk and would be back by 6 am.  
  
Few people were on the streets at that hour, but some were hurrying along in cars. The pale light also brought a December snowfall. Small specks of white soon filled the sky, and then it began to come down quickly, covering Heero's hair and clothes. The 18 year old continued to walk on, gathering his jacket around his lithe frame. The trees were swooping low, nearly touching the ground from the weight of the snow. Heero's journey took him down a new road, one that was unpaved. The snow filled branches covered the ground below them, and the thorny bushes that lay at their dying feet. His travel stopped however, at the middle of the road, looking over a particular bush.  
  
The bush was blossoming with violet and blue irises, which was the strangest thing about the bush. Irises don't grow on bushes, and most certainly not in the wintertime. Heero took his time in crouching down, and carefully fingering the flowers. The helpless petals nearly clung to his hand for warmth, and the colors began to slowly seep into his palm. Within minutes, Heero had collapsed into a deep sleep beneath the iris bush.  
  
  
  
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By 6:45, Wufei had left the hotel room in search of Heero. The boy had disappeared before he had awoken, and he hadn't returned, even though it was 45 minutes after he said he would be back. The hotel was just starting to come alive, with patrons climbing out of bed and leaving the sweet comfort of the rooms, to travel down the fridiged hallways into the breakfast room. Pale blue light streamed in through the wide windows in the breakfast room, and enlightened the tables filled with crystal and high- class dinnerware. The bar lay empty, but already a bartender was wiped down the counter and preparing for the day. Two people already sat at the breakfast room, at a table right next to the main window.  
  
The smaller boy had pale blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes. His quiet laugh shook the room, as his companion, a tall brunette with mysterious green eyes and a curious bang that covered his right eye. Both were dressed casually and their presence made you feel comfortable, like you had all the time in the world to do anything that pleased you.  
  
Wufei glanced around the breakfast area, not even acknowledging mentally there were patrons there.  
  
"Excuse me, sir. Have you see a tall, brunette, with blue eyes wearing black pants and a blue shirt come through," Wufei asked slowly. Luckily for him, the staff at the hotel spoke in English, as well as German. The bartender shook his head, and then returned to his work. Discouraged, Wufei swore and sighed heavily. A quiet chuckle from a table drew Wufei up sharply.  
  
"What's so funny?" Wufei asked suspiciously, turning around slowly. He gaped at what he saw.  
  
"Trowa, Quatre? What the hell are you guys doing here in France? I thought you were working on the new peace deal with the Russians?" Wufei asked, smiling happily. The three of them had all been soldiers in Poland, fighting undercover everyday to save people's lives.  
  
"Silly, we're here on honey moon! Our plane got cancelled to the Bahamas, so we're stuck here until Friday. How are you holding up? Last we heard, you were hopping trains," Quatre explained, his face brightening, and showing his longtime friend a wedding ring.  
  
"MARRIED? YOU TWO!? I KNEW IT!! Congratulations, both of you. That's really something... but... How did this happen? Last I knew of you two was you were teasing each other endlessly and neither of you had the BALLS to tell each other. Who was the Einstein that set you up? Yeah, I was hopping trains, but I just stopped that a day ago. There was a weakling of a boy I met on the train who obviously needed my protection, so I shall accompany him to England. But I can't find him. He said he'd be back by 6, but he's not here," Wufei told them, sighing once again.  
  
" I'm sure this 'weakling-of-a-boy'  
  
"Why don't we come to help you look?" Trowa suggested lightly. Wufei looked up at him, half surprised, before smiling again. Maybe this would be like the old days.  
  
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"Princess Relena, look the prophesy has come true! I never should have doubted you, my lady!" the low growl praised the younger leader as they stepped onto the rugged pathway. The tree were crowned with snow, and the ground lay untouched as it was protected by the trees. The group of bodyguards and the princess made their way over to the collapsed body, which lay directly underneath the Bush of Undying Promise.  
  
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Wufei, Trowa and Quatre were just about to leave, after paying for the breakfast, when the television caught their attention.  
  
"Yes, everyone, It is confirmed that the Prince of the Stars has finally arrived! The longtime prophesy that a young prince would be found at the bottom of the bush of Undying Promise has indeed come true. The prophesy proclaimed that today, on winter's dawn, a young prince with brown hair and blue eyes would be discovered sleeping at the bush. The boy has been taken into the palace of the Royal Princess Relena, Lady of France, whom he is destined to marry. This new prince will soon marry and take the kingship over us all. Every inch of France is now rejoicing. In other news, Jimmy the Flying Penguin was spotted last night at a Rainbow Boys concert break dancing..." the announcer said dully.  
  
All three of the men looked at the Lady of France in disgust, each hating this tradition. The tradition took a poor bloke who fell asleep from the poison the iris bush gave off, and took him away to be a prince without even asking his permission.  
  
"That poor, poor soul," Trowa muttered darkly.  
  
"How can they just do that to him?" Quatre said tearfully, shrugging into his lover's embrace.  
  
" How pathetic,"  
  
A picture of a girl, wearing a long white, shoulder-less gown, a sparkling diamond tiara and a cross on a silver chain came onto the screen. The Lady of France, Princess Relena smiled happily, her shallow face matching her personality. Wufei sneered at the picture, but his heart stopped at the next picture. It was a picture of the new prince, who was being dragged into a bright, pink limo. It was Heero.  
  
"Oh shiiiitttt..."  
  
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If you're confused about the choosing prince thingy, please email me!  
  
review? pweese? 


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